NEW TOS: Sea Change 2/5 (Sc/f)[R]

[lyrastarwatcher]

Title: Sea Change [R]
Author: Lyrastar, www.geocities.com/lyrastarwatcher
Part: 2/5
------

John was more than happy to oblige on the condition they could run more
tests on the model. Women and experimental engineering pretty much
summed up his favorite things in life, if not necessarily in that
order.

Monty was not so happy about the whole arrangement.,

The best think about being accepted to University at sixteen was
feeling superior to the other freshmen; the worst part was feeling
overwhelmed by every woman who ever lived. Even two years later,
Monty felt like a jellyfish tossed about in a winter North Sea storm.
He had no hope in hell of ever being able to get the upper hand, but
getting out of the water never crossed his mind.

Competition was one thing he didn't need, though. He spoke to John
directly.

"Don't worry; my heart belongs to Anne."

"And the rest of you?" asked Scotty sounding more childish than he had
planned.

"Follows meekly behind." John plopped his feet up on the desk and
smiled. "I like a pretty face, to be sure, but she is all yours for
the taking."

"Just remember: her face is up here." Monty gestured up from his neck,
but the tone kept the same unintentional petulance.

John laughed. "Don't worry, me lad. I might well double-cross you over
the Hawking Theoretical Physics Fellowship, but a girl, never!"

For the first time in hours Monty relaxed. It was something only
Engineers could understand.

They day was overcast as usual, and the air was full of the taste of
the sea and life. No one else was there when they arrived, and so they
fired up the model.

The sealed compartments stayed dry down to seventy meters. They were
about to try for eighty when they saw her on the rocks. She was in an
off-white dress, windblown with her silver hair loose and whipping
about her face. Staring out to sea, she looked like something out of a
museum watercolor or the cover or a young girl's romance novel.

Monty had eyes only for her, but John followed her gaze out to the
water where waves broke over a covered sandbar. He thought that he
saw something. Turtles? Dolphins? He directed his engineering
datacorder but it wasn't calibrated for bio and couldn't read at that
sensitivity. He snapped a still photo of her instead. She was
stunningly beautiful in a way that made him wish that a man could have
two girls and keep them both blissfully happy forever. But that would
be a fairystory.

She moved easily across the rocks when she turned and saw them. She
had an easy smile for both that was a pleasant change from their first
meeting.

"Go on about your business boys," she said as she unpacked her painting
supplies from her rucksack. "I want to paint you doing manly things
like playing with your manly toy."

"It's nae a toy, it's--"

John kicked him.

Monty cleared his throat and started over in a lower tone. "I'd rather
make my business staying with you." He pulled the easel the rest of the
way out of the rucksack and helped her settle it into a relatively
stable spot.

John shook his head and set the remote for eighty meters. At least one
of them could get some work done.

"What else have you got in there?" Monty asked. Painting gear
removed, the rucksack was still fairly full.

"A change of clothes, just in case your toy runs wild again."

This time Monty held his tongue.

"Well, go on with you. Down to the water."

"Really, I'd rather watch you paint." Monty rocked happily on his toes.

"They'll be nothing to paint if you're up here, will there? Go on and
do whatever it is that you were doing and let me start the scene first.
I'll tell you when I'm ready for you to come up."

"Come up for what?" asked John.

"To stand and model for me."

"What? Just stand there? Why?"

"Because I say so, Mr. O'Flaughty." Lesa took out a tube of slate gray
and started on the rocky shoreline.

"Anything you want, Lesa." Monty kissed her hand.

John thanked the saints that he had better sense in women than Monty
did.

The painting was finished without event. Monty thought that John came
out significantly better than he did, but Lesa seemed pleased with the
result. The submarine tests weren't much better than last time, but at
least there weren't any incidents. John begged out of dinner claiming
a paper due the next day. In reality Monty had threatened him to
within an inch of his life if he tried to hone in.

They walked to the same restaurant again. He still didn't taste the
food, but she ate enough for them both. He was struck by the elegance
of every move she made. It gave him a possible thought.

"Do you like to dance?" he asked.

Her eyes lit up. "I love any chance to stretch me legs."

"There's a dance next Saturday at the University Hall. John will be
there--with his girl, if that matters. I thought maybe you might
like--"

"I'd love to."

"Ah could pick you up at your place. Say seven? Or earlier and we
could eat."

"Seven's fine, but I'll meet you at your place. I have some other
things to do that day."

Using the tableside comm, he printed out a copy of his contact info and
coordinates to his apartment. "If you need directions--"

"Nope. I'm naturally good at navigation." She tucked the printout
into some fold in her clothes or body. "See you then."

It was clearly a cue and he rose just before her. This time she kissed
him on the mouth. Now, that he tasted and prayed that he would for a
very long time.

She arrived right on time, wearing a dress of midnight black that clung
to every curve and fell clear down to her ankles. The fabric
practically beckoned to be touched, not that Monty needed any more
incentive.

"We ready?" she asked.

"Aye!" said Monty. "For anything!" The gleam in his eye didn't look
like that of a man heading for a college dance.

She rolled her eyes. Men, was the unspoken thought. "Where's your
flatmate?" is what she said.

"John? He and Anne left already. Said they wanted to get their music
requests in the queue. Did you want to come in for a drink or
something first?"

"No, let's not keep them waiting." Lesa extended her right arm.
Stepping outside the door, Monty extended his left, elbow bent. She
took it and they strolled along the walkway to the stairs.

Monty started up a flight to the rooftop flitter pads. Lesa held her
ground. "Let's walk," she said. "I want to warm up for dancing."

Monty gazed skeptically at the sky. Years of coastal living told him
the pressure was already dropping. "It's more than likely to rain
tonight. With all the crowd, I canna guarantee we can get a transport
back."

"I'll risk it," she said. "I don't get out this way much; I'd like to
walk around. And I'm not afraid of a little water; I won't melt."

"Dissolve."

"Pardon?"

"Solids melt with an increase in heat; they dissolve when exposed to--"

She was looking at him in that way that girls had all through school
when he was just trying to be helpful.

His cousin Mary had tried to explain it to him once. It hadn't made
any sense. She had told him that he was thinking too hard. "You can't
bait for women, Monty. Or at least you can't hang on to the ones you
lure with bait. With women, everything you already know is useless."

He wasn't sure that he understood the first part, but the last phrase
he knew was true for damned certain.

He cleared his throat and started down the stairs. "We'll walk to
Edinburgh if ye like. I rather fancy the fog meself."

"No, just the dance hall will be fine." She tugged his arm a little
tighter and pulled her body in next to his.

The dance was in high swing by the time that they arrived. John knew
how to do it all. He taught her how to polka and Lindy and Harriman
step and even something obscure called the Charleston. Monty tried,
but body kinetics had never been his thing; engines were. They were
predictable and far easier to control. "Don't worry he said," I'd
rather have a good view to watch you." And he meant it. After all,
John was engaged, wasn't he?

John's fiancée, Anne, was easy on the eyes and light on her feet with
a friendly smile for everyone. She had no lack of dance partners
herself and seemed to delight in every one. Monty caught up with Anne
while she sat out a dance to get some punch. "Does it bother you?" he
asked nodding to where John and Lesa reeled happily around the floor.

"Huh?" She wrinkled her forehead in confusion.

"John and another girl?"

Anne laughed. "Oh, lord, no. You know him as well as I do, Monty.
He's a people person. He lives to make other people happy. I canna
and wouldna try to stop him from that. It's possibly the thing I love
best about him. How stupid would it be to let jealously destroy the
vera best of a man?"

"You are supposed to be pledged--"

"Aye, and we are. That's his public face. He can have as much fun as
he cares to with anyone whom he cares to, but I'll always be the one he
comes to when he hurts. If that ever changes, then I'll worry."

As they watched, Lesa squealed in delight as John dropped her into a
giant dip and whipped her back up again. He whispered something in her
ear and she laughed loud enough to be heard across the room.

Anne elbowed Monty conspiratorially. "Besides, how many times can I
listen to those same old jokes and be expected to laugh?"

This time, despite himself, Monty laughed.

Protestations of left feet aside, John came and pulled him onto the
floor for a Scottish reel. It would be unpatriotic not to, he said.
After that was a waltz. Lesa promised to be gentle with him and he
didn't step on her toes too often. Next was something fast and
Rigelian. Monty escaped before they could lasso him into trying to
learn. He worked on trying to deduce why the sound system quavered
every now and then. He had it narrowed down to the piciculator or a
fault in the ion feed when Lesa plucked at his sleeve.

"It's the last dance," she said.

"I'll see if I can call us a flitter."

"No, silly. I want to dance it with you."

"Really?" Monty couldn't stop the smile.

Lesa rolled her eyes. "Dissolve, melt, and trimodal transports, but
you don't know much about women, do you?"

Well, he hadn't exactly considered it a secret.

Apparently he knew enough to end up holding her close in a sweet, slow
dance. He wrapped her tightly in his arms and inhaled the heady mix of
the sweat and perfume that radiated from her neck and moved without
thinking to the strains of "Goodnight, Irene," and decided that he
didn't give a damn what he knew anymore.

It was chilly and misting when they finally made it outside, but Monty
felt warm all over. The fog was thick as it should be on a proper
Scottish night. "We can probably bum a ride off of someone," said
Monty. "I dinnae think the weather will hold out much longer. "

"I have magical powers that will keep the rain away," she said and
waved her arms in a grandiose gesture.

Monty felt the fog. It was thick and brimming at the edge of
saturation. "Aye, well, I do hope that those powers won't--melt if
they get wet."

She looked at him with approval. "You're learning," she said and
tweaked him on the bum.

Monty made a mental note to send Mary a very nice Christmas gift this
year.

"I had a good time," she said as they strolled along the pedway. "I
don't know how to thank you."

"Thank John," he said. "You had most of your fun with him." He didn't
intend for it to come out sounding so petty.

She gave no indication that she noticed. "I already did. But he had
as much fun as I did. It's not the same."

"I had fun," he said gripping her hand a little tighter and remembering
how she had felt, warm and glowing in his arms. "I just love to see you
happy--however that happens." Much to his surprise, he meant it.

"You make me happy," she said. She stopped where she was and kissed
him.

The kiss started slow and gentle, guaranteed not to offend. It wasn't
clear whose mouth opened first, but either way soon their tongues were
mingled. He clutched her tight against him, trying to press as much of
his body against hers as he could muster. It was awkward as he had
little thought to spare for the logistics. All that filled his mind
was the sinful feel of her mouth on his and the little sounds she made
from deep in her breast.

That is until the first wad of rain hit his face.

One would think that it would be a gradual thing, from fog, to mist, to
drizzle, to rain, to deluge. Scotland seldom went the way of the rest
of the world however, and the sky simply opened up and dropped water on
the land by the freightload. Startled, they broke apart and ducked
their heads lest they risk drowning otherwise.

"I don't think your magic is working," said Monty.

"I never believed in magic anyway," she laughed.

"Neither do I," he said. "I think we better run for it." Hand in
hand, they did.

The nice thing about being soaked to the skin is that once you can't
get any wetter, the rain simply ceases to matter. Since they were
already drenched, they stopped under the spread of a giant yew tree and
kissed some more.

This time there was no gentle hesitation. The delved as far as they
could into each other. She took his arm and wrapped it around her
back, led it down the curve of her buttock. She began to hitch her
dress up in the back, and when he finally got the idea, she moved her
other hand to his rear.

He had her backed against the trunk of the tree and pressed up against
her, feeling every curve, every wiggle, every rise and fall of her
chest. He grew dizzy, almost faint. He thought every bit of his blood
must be trapped below his waistband; surely there couldn't be enough to
reaching his brain. He backed off from her a little as the extent of
his ungentlemanly actions knocked politely at his conscience.

She grabbed his ass and pulled him back hard against her. "I'm not a
little girl," she said, running one hand under his shirt and around his
nipple until he was sure his head would burst.

"Ah noticed," he managed to choke out.

She ground her pelvis against him harder.

"Lesa, please stop or ahm going to embarrass myself." It was
everything he could do to keep himself from moving against her,
virtually taking her here and now like an animal.

"Don't let that stop you. You're cute when you're embarrassed," she
said and nibbled at his ear.

His world spun. He made one last valiant effort to pull away, and
might have made it, save for her other hand sliding down the front of
his pants. She barely had tickled the hair and brushed against a little
skin when he choked out her name and collapsed against her shoulder.

"Thank you for a lovely evening," she said against his neck.

"Any time." He tried to laugh, but had no breath for it. So settled
for holding her and listening to the rain on the leaves,

The rain had slacked off a little when they reached his door.

"Would you like to come in for a drink?" he asked, feeling acutely
unaware of the social rules here.

She shook her head. "I don't drink."

"Would ya like me to call you a flitter--or pilot you home myself?"

She shook her head.

He paused. She hadn't moved from the doorstep. "Would you like to come
in--not for a drink?"

She nodded. He opened the door.

"Let me get you a towel," he said. "You must be awfully cold."

He went into the bathroom. When he came out with the towel, she was
standing there--naked. He forgot what he was going to say. He forgot
the towel.

"You're right; I am cold," she said. "Is there a place I can warm up?"
She walked to his bed and climbed in. "Like here?"

Monty stripped in record time and leapt in beside her swearing to get
Mary the nicest Christmas present she had ever had in her life.

He began by exploring her body, every inch, every curve, every ripple.
The skills he didn't uncover for himself, she showed him without the
slightest hint of laughter and when he lowered himself within her, it
was the way he had always envisioned perfection to be.

As he moved over her and in her and watched her face contort in
pleasure, he decided she was probably smarter than he was. Had it not
been for the earlier interlude, he never would have lasted long enough
to feel her claw her nails into his back in desperation or to have her
pound her heels against him in a frantic, prolonged climax and that
would have been a bloody shame to miss.

As it was, he lasted just barely two seconds longer than that.

His health teacher had never mentioned that it would be like this as
the world reformed around him. He decided that he should definitely
try new experiments more often.

"What should we do next time?" he asked, fingering her hair. The black
streak fascinated him. She'd said that that was her natural
color--that generations of her family's women had gone prematurely
gray. Her mother had claimed that it was from putting up with
generations of her family's men.

Monty was just old enough to agree that that made sense, and just young
enough to swear that if he ever had the chance to be the one she chose,
that she would never lose another jet-black strand again.

"Oh, ye think there'll be a next time then?"

He rolled over in alarm and gaped wide-eyed into her face.

She laughed. "I'm jokin, silly." She ran the tips of her nails over
his balls. "And what we did this time was fine by me."

He relaxed at her words and touch. The skin of his sac twitched and
tugged in counterpoint to the gentle scrape. "No complaints from my
side either, but I meant before this."

His stomach tightened as his balls were pulled in to the humid heat of
her mouth. "Or, mebee, after..." His eyes rolled back and he let
himself go where she took him.

It was a curious feeling. It was much too soon. There was not even a
spark of an urge to climax anywhere within him. It all felt warm and
intimate and tender and so very, very good.

He wondered if this made him a sissy, but if so, that was fine by him.
He did decide that he would never tell the guys.

After a time, she came back up beside him, leaving her hand where her
mouth had been. It allowed him to think a little. What had he been
saying, oh, yes: their next date.

"We could take a skimmer around the islands, if you want. Maybe do a
little fishing. You said you liked it, didn't ye?" When he thought of
her, he thought of the ocean in the same flash. He thought of the way
he had first seen her on the shore--wild, natural and waiting for him.
He hoped he always would.

"Mm." She nuzzled in against his neck. "Aye. What I'd really like is
to see it from up high. Really high. See all the islands at once,
maybe the whole ocean.

He furled his brow. "You've never been into space?"

"Never higher than a commuter flitter."

"It's the twenty-third century, woman!"

"I'm an old fashioned kind of girl."

"I've got just the surprise for you then."

"Oh, really?" She spread her legs.

Monty chuckled and began kissing his way down her body. It wasn't what
he'd meant, but he could take a hint. A man's work was never done.

~end part 2/5

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